


Give A Good Dog A Bone

by Rockinmuffin



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Fingering, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rockinmuffin/pseuds/Rockinmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve been a good, obedient pet.  And good pets deserve to be rewarded for good behavior, don’t they?”  The question sounds rhetorical, but Frieza eyes you expectantly, waiting for a response. </p><p>“…Yes?” you reply because you know that’s the answer he’s looking for even if you’re not entirely sure just what you’re getting yourself into.</p><p>His lips curl and he has a look in his eyes that makes you shiver with something akin to fear.  “Yes,” he agrees.</p><p>You x Frieza</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give A Good Dog A Bone

**Author's Note:**

> The lemon that nobody ever wanted or asked for!
> 
> [ Not canon to the main storyline for my series of Frieza shorts, but consider this an alternate timeline that could have occurred any time after the events of Pet](http://www.lunaescence.com/fics/viewstory.php?sid=37954&textsize=0&chapter=1). You don’t have to read that one-shot to enjoy the story but it does provide the context. Basically, all you really need to know is that the reader is Frieza’s human pet. Oh, and this takes place after the battle on Namek so Frieza's got his cyborg parts.
> 
> Enjoy the sex, friends.

The moment Lord Frieza claims you as his pet, the terrifying thought comes unbidden to your mind, immediate and unavoidable. You swiftly push it to the back of your head if only because the longer you ignore it then the longer you can prolong the horrible reality of your situation and the horrible fate that will most likely befall you.

Still, when he allows you the great honor of sharing his bed, you mentally prepare yourself for what can only be the inevitable. After all, he’s a megalomaniac who considers people his possessions and you are a reasonably attractive female whom he has complete and utter power over. You don’t have to be a mathematician to see how that adds up.

So when you spend multiple nights sleeping in Frieza’s bed, literally sleeping with the enemy and doing nothing **but** sleep in that bed, you don’t really know what to think.

You suppose you should be relieved. Scratch that; you _know_ you should be relieved. You aren’t, though. Truth be told, more than anything, you’re kind of offended.

You turn on your side to stare down the evil business tycoon.

He doesn’t look half as scary when he’s sleeping. There’s almost something child-like about the softness of his features when he’s at rest. In this quiet moment, with nothing but the soft glow of alien technology to illuminate his features, it’s hard to believe those same round cheeks and delicate-looking lips can shift into the most disgustingly-satisfied smirk while effortlessly ending lives.

You raise your hand to explore the delicate line of his cheekbone but stop yourself before you make contact. You dare not raise a hand to him, not even while he sleeps. Not even a hand raised only in gentleness. You’ve watched men die over smaller offenses and being Frieza’s prized pet only affords you a smidgen more patience than what he holds for his underlings.

Your right index and middle finger drum against your left wrist as your mind wanders.

“What?”

You jump at the sound of Frieza’s voice. His eyes don’t open; his expression is the same as it has been for the past few minutes. You wonder how long he’s been awake and aware of your eyes on him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Either say what you have to say or go to sleep.”

Your first instinct is to just flop back down on the bed and forget your whole train of thought, but that instinct is quelled by your burning curiosity. “There’s something I need to know,” you begin cautiously.

He says nothing.

Taking his silence as encouragement, you shift among the sheets, pulling yourself up into a sitting position so that you can lean over him. “What’s wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough? Are you put off by my hair? Do you prefer men? Or is it because I don’t have a tail?”

His brows furrow and closed eyelids scrunch up. “What are you prattling on about now?”

“Why haven’t you ravished me yet?”

His eyes finally open at that. “Pardon?”

“Am I that undesirable to you that the thought hasn’t even crossed your mind?”

He eyes you a moment, expression a calm neutral before the corner of his lips curl and a deep-throated chuckle reverberates from the back of his throat. “Is that the thought that’s been furrowing your brow all this time? Whether or not I find you physically attractive?”

It takes considerable effort to keep the flushing of your cheeks at bay—especially when he starts laughing again—but you manage to hold it back with sheer willpower. “I’ll have you know, back on Earth, any man who got to share a bed with me could consider himself lucky.”

“Would they now?” He sits up in bed, eyebrow arching.

“I’m a real catch!”

“Of course you are,” he replies with an indulgent tone and a condescending pat to the top of your head. You endure it, if only because you know resisting could earn you a backhand to your cheek or a hole in your skull.

“I’m a total babe,” you grumble under your breath. You’re pretty sure Frieza hears you anyway but he humors you by not responding so you can at least _pretend_ it went by unnoticed.

“So,” he lifts his hand from your skull, “Is there a reason you’re bringing this up now?”

“No reason.”

His lips quirk. “You’re mammalian, correct? If you are in estrus and require some assistance, all you need to do is ask nicely.”

You feel your cheeks heat in response. “That’s not what I was getting at. I didn’t bring it up because I _wanted_ you to do anything.”

“But it _is_ what you want, right?”

“No!”

“No?” he feigns shock. “Then why are you so upset by my lack of sexual advances?”

“I’m not upset!” you answer a little too quick and much too loud.

“Oh?” He raises an amused eyebrow. “Then am I to believe those pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes are just your natural expression?”

You avert your eyes. “My lips aren’t pouty…”

“Of course they aren’t,” he teases, brushing his thumb along the corner of your mouth in an action that comes across as more possessive than intimate.

A lover might take the opportunity to kiss the pout off your lips. Frieza just moves his fingers from your mouth to your cheek and pinches the flesh, taking amusement in your pained grunt and the way you scrunch up your nose.

He releases your cheek but his touch lingers, soothing the sore flesh as he brushes the back of his hand along your cheek and jaw line.

You feel your cheeks heating under his attentive gaze. Those hands that have so effortlessly drawn gasping final breaths from the throats of men are now drawing goose bumps along your skin and blood rushing to your face. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with fear and something more.

And that’s when you come to a horrifying realization: you’re attracted to Frieza.

He is an emotionally-stunted sociopath who has kidnapped you from your home and reduced you to the role of a common house pet. He is a disgusting, sadistic creature with a complete lack of morals and an utter disregard for any life that is not his own. He is a cold-hearted tyrant and business tycoon who purges planets of their inhabitants and sells the real estate for a pretty profit without any remorse. You hate everything he is and everything he stands for. And you want to have hot, sweaty sex with him.

He’s not even good-looking, either. At least if he was attractive you could blame your feelings on your own shallowness. Instead, he looks like a reptilian Rocky Horror Picture Show reject and yet you _still_ want to bang him.

This is something worse than Stockholm syndrome. This is Stockholm syndrome on steroids with some crazy pills thrown into the mix.

You cover your face with your hands and groan. “Oh my God, what is _wrong_ with me?!”

Frieza seems pretty amused by your complete and utter humiliation. His tail swishes behind him as you shake your head back and forth, mumbling nonsensical denials under your breath.

“You know,” Freiza muses, watching as you tug at your hair, “This would be much easier on you if you just admit how you really feel.”

“I don’t…”

“You know how I feel about liars who are bad at lying.” His expression remains playful but you can hear a hint of warning in his tone.

You pull your fingers from your hair and sigh. “Alright, _fine_. I find you devastatingly charming and I want you to have your graphically-described way with me!” You hide your face behind your hands so you don’t have to see the look on his face but you end up peeking through your fingers anyhow.

“See? Now was that so hard?” His lips quirk into that tight-lipped smug-looking sneer that he pulls off so well. “I suppose I have been neglectful of your baser, more primitive needs.”

He reaches for your hands and pulls them from your face. You stifle your knee-jerk reaction to resist and simply allow him to do as he pleases. It’s not as if you could really fight him off even if you wanted to.

“You’ve been a good, obedient pet. And good pets deserve to be rewarded for good behavior, don’t they?” The question sounds rhetorical, but Frieza eyes you expectantly, waiting for a response. 

You realize he has yet to release your hands from his grip.

“…Yes?” you finally reply because you know that’s the answer he’s looking for even if you’re not entirely sure just what you’re getting yourself into.

His lips curl and he has a look in his eyes that makes you shiver with something akin to fear. “Yes,” he agrees.

He grabs your chin, ghosts his breath over your face as he looks you over with a scrutinizing gaze. The red of his irises are a stark contrast to the whites of his eyes and you find yourself unable to look away from the hauntingly beautiful sight even as the part of your brain dedicated to survival instincts screeches at you to flee. Those instincts go completely ignored as Frieza’s tongue flicks out to smooth over his top lip and your eyes follow the movement in an almost religious-like reverence.

Then, Frieza releases his grip and flops back down on the bed in a reclined position as if nothing happened.

You look down at him, confused and at a loss for words. For the first time since you’ve found yourself in this situation, it occurs to you that he might be physically incapable of sexual relations. Not even taking his metal lower half into account, it’s possible that Frieza’s race reproduces asexually.

You blink. “Um, did I misread that entire exchange, or…?” you trail off, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“You may use this to help bring yourself to completion.” He holds up the hand that is still living flesh, index and middle finger extended out and pressed tight to one another. The metal arm moves behind his head to help support his neck in a more comfortable position. “Be honored. I don’t often dirty my hands in this way.”

“Are you serious?”

“You’ve happened to catch me in a good mood, pet. I suggest you not squander it and ruin the moment by asking stupid questions.” His eyes narrow only slightly. “Now, you can either accept my gracious offer or lay down so we can both go back to sleep.”

It’s embarrassing and demeaning and not at all what you had been expecting but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested. The horrible truth of the matter is that you’re attracted to Frieza and you want him in the worst way possible. Just once, you tell yourself, to sate your curiosity. Just once and you’ll get it out of your system and never have to think about Frieza in this way ever again.

Determined, you nod your head. “Okay. I accept.”

Frieza watches, amused, as you move so that you’re hovering over his body, knees pressed to the mattress on the outsides of his mechanical legs. Your hips are just a few inches over his, not quite confident enough you can get away with resting your weight on him.

“This is just a one-time-thing, so don’t you dare think I’d ever want this from you ever again!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he leers up at you with half-hooded eyes.

“Good.” A solid ten seconds pass by with absolutely nothing happening. You look down at Frieza and audibly gulp. “So…” you drawl nervously.

He arches a brow. “So?”

“Are we going to start now, or…?”

“That’s entirely dependent on you.”

He stares back at you with a dull expression and makes no effort to move his hand at all. He’s really going to make you do all the work.

Hesitantly, you reach out towards his hand, your fingers cautiously wrapping around it. You look back to Frieza’s face, searching for any sign that he’s retracted his offer and plans on blasting you for daring to touch him, but his expression does not falter. He simply allows you to lower his wrist down to your waist.

Emboldened by his lack of resistance, you rub yourself against his fingers through your underwear. The fabric is already damp and grows damper still as your hips rotate and your hand presses Frieza’s thumb to the hood of your clitoris. Sweet pressure causes your nipples to pebble and your breath to draw short. A hiss of air escapes between clenched teeth as you continue to grind against his hand.

Frieza watches with an amused expression as you pull your panties down your hips, letting them tangle around your calves as you desperately press his fingers to your hot flesh.

You bite your bottom lip as you lower yourself onto his fingers, not stopping until your pubic bone presses against Frieza’s second knuckle. You sit there a moment, breathing heavy as you adjust yourself to the sensation of him inside you.

All the while, Frieza’s lips curl at all the soft, breathy noises that escape your lips. 

“You’re _soaking_. How long have you been thinking about this?” Frieza chuckles. “Maybe you’re not such a good pet after all. Maybe you’re naughtier than I thought.”

Your body clenches around his fingers and you whimper.

“Maybe I should punish you,” he says casually as you raise your hips up and then lower yourself back down onto his hand. “But a naughty pet like you would just end up enjoying that, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper again as you continue to rise and fall, faster and faster until you’re frantically riding Frieza’s fingers, your thighs spread wide as you bounce up and down on his hand. Your left hand makes a fist against the mattress, supporting most of your weight, while your right hand slides down your stomach to press your middle finger to your clit.

Frieza watches you with an almost bored expression from his reclined position against the pillows. His lips purse together as you continue to wildly buck against him. His eyes on you burn heat into your cheeks. You turn your head away, feeling self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze, but his metal arm moves from behind his head to your cheek and forces you to face him.

Unable to look away, you meet his stare head-on, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted. Each bounce of your body causes the metal of his fingertips to scratch your cheeks but you’re powerless to stop the desperate motion of your hips as you struggle for completion.

“You’re taking too long,” Frieza says as he digs a metal finger into your cheek deep enough to draw blood. His eyes follow the trail as it dribbles down to your chin. When his eyes meet yours again they’re practically glowing. “Let’s speed things up, shall we?”

You can’t hold back the whining keen that escapes your mouth as his fingers move in a scissoring motion inside of you. Other than a little dirty talking, he hasn’t been a very active participant, so the sudden motion is enough to shock some sounds out of you. Your left hand moves from the mattress to your mouth and you bite your fingers to stifle back the soft little moans bubbling up from the back of your throat.

The motions of his fingers inside you increase their pace, making your back arch and your toes curl. You’d collapse on top of Frieza if not for his mechanical hand moving down to your hip, holding you up effortlessly. Instead, you allow your head to lull back, teeth scraping your knuckles as you other hand pinches your clit every time you impale yourself on Frieza’s digits.

Frieza stares down at the space where his fingers are swallowed up by your body, watching them disappear and reappear with every thrust of your hips. His eyes drift to the area just above where your hand is working fervidly. His mechanical hand moves from your hip to grab your wrist, tugging it away from your clit so the warm flesh hand that’s working your body can swirl its thumb over your hood. Your breath hitches and your teeth clamp down onto your bottom lip.

He snickers, thumb pressing a little harder. “I can feel it. You’re close aren’t you?”

You don’t answer with words; just soft, high-pitched panting moans that leave your mouth involuntarily. You lean forward and Frieza’s face is only inches away from yours.

“What if I just removed my fingers and left you like this?”

“Nooooooo,” you whine, “Dooooon’t.”

He moves his head towards your throat and you can feel his smirk against your neck. “Maybe I won’t if you beg,” he teases, breath sweltering hot against your sweat-slick skin.

“Please. I need… I need…” You can’t quite find the words, too distracted by burning hot pressure building inside your abdomen and behind your eyelids and against every inch of over-sensitized skin.

He clicks his tongue, pushing himself away from your neck so he can meet your eyes again. “You’re going to have to do better than that, pet.”

“Please, Lord Frieza. _I need you_.”

“What do you need from me?” he asks in a pleasant, conversational tone.

“Just you.”

His expression instantly sobers up; the wicked smirk of his lips melting into a straight line. You can’t read the look in his eyes.

Next thing you know, you’re flat on your back, Frieza’s metal arm holding your leg over his shoulder while the flesh hand rapidly pistons his fingers in and out of you.

“Say it again,” he orders.

“What?” You blink, mind and vision hazy with pleasure. “I don’t…”

“Tell me what you need.” He slows the motions of his hand and you groan at the loss. “Tell me what you need from me,” he repeats.

“Just you, Lord Frieza,” you answer and are rewarded with the impossibly fast pumping movements of his hand. “You, you, only you,” you repeat, over and over as you toss and turn and thrust your hips. You try to meet him, thrust for thrust, but you’re no match for his inhuman speed.

His fingers curl, just a little bit, and every time he pushes them back in he hits a soft, spongy part inside of you that makes you see stars.

“Frieza! Please, there! Please, please, please don’t stop!”

You close your eyes, lost in the sensations, but your orgasm hits you and forces them back open. Your back arches and your fingers grab at Frieza’s biceps, fingernails digging into his muscles as you hold onto him for dear life.

His burning red eyes are locked onto yours the whole time.

Your head falls back on the pillow as you come down from your high. You take in deep, gasping breaths, chest heaving with the effort.

When you look back up at Frieza, he’s holding his fingers up to his face. You can see strands of your release glistening on his digits and, for a moment, you think he’s going to lick them clean. Then he just sneers and lowers his hand to wipe his fingers off on your thigh. You pout but try not to be too put off by it.

Frieza flops back down onto the bed, sprawled out on his side. That amused smirk of his has found its way back over his features. “Do you feel sufficiently ravished now?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good.” He places a hand on your arm. “Now sleep.”

Frieza’s fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you forward and pulling you into place at his side. Sweaty and exhausted, you couldn’t resist if you wanted to.


End file.
